


controlled burn

by broments



Series: controlled burn / backdraft [2]
Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Kid Fic, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Oral Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Ten Years Later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2020-11-27 00:29:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20939300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broments/pseuds/broments
Summary: This will be worth it. All of the volunteers here care and want to build a better world. This is where it starts. They may not be able to change every mind at once but progress is progress, and Galo gives him hope just like he gives it to everyone else around him: with full enthusiasm.or:Lio adjusts to this new world they're trying to build with varying levels of success.[ backdraft b side ]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> can i really mark this as slowburn when like 1k in lio realizes galo's in love with him and is like...ah, alright then. 
> 
> anyway i've lost control of my life, here's an absurd amount of words about lio's side of backdraft + some one year later stuff because i wanted it. i would read backdraft first, just since there's a lot i gloss over because what the fuck this was like 40k already, please, i'm tired.
> 
> posting this means i basically did a NaNo's worth of promare fic in like 9 days? at least 3 points during the writing of this i leaned back and wondered if it was too much, and then kept going. so.
> 
> thank you to everyone who sanity checked this as i wrote it; i didn't get it beta'd because i'm about to go into a crazy workweek but also have no self-control. i'll update with the beta'd version by eow or so. 
> 
> thank you to everyone who mentioned wanting to see lio's side, you're all to blame and i love and appreciate you, thanks to discord for the discussions about what petnames galo'd use, whether they'd have pets, and to sam for talking about how they'd do their names if they got married.
> 
> EDIT: NOW WITH FANART??? HOLY SHIT???  
Please look at [this cuteass image](https://teaandinanity.tumblr.com/post/188203519134/in-the-continuing-adventures-of-me-throwing-fanart) by Eithe of Galo holding up a big puppy and know that it was 100% set as Lio's screensaver on his phone.

Galo Thymos cares so much that Lio can’t believe someone like him exists, sometimes. He’s an impossibility from the very moment that he bursts into Lio’s life, loud and obnoxious and so sure of himself. 

Everyone fits into different categories in Lio’s mind, not dissimilar to chess pieces because this is a war they’re waging and to treat it as anything less would devalue the lives of those who wouldn’t be there to see the new world they build. Galo, at first, fits firmly into the category of pawn. He espouses the same tired sayings that Lio’s heard for so long, generally from the Freeze Force. It’s only after their first meeting that he realizes how wrong he is. Galo is nothing like Kray, or the Freeze Force, or anyone else. He’s a force of nature.

This is, _ was _ war and in war there were casualties no matter the best intentions. Their opponent was a monster, which meant a great many of those casualties were the young and the old, because for all Lio’s power and ability to burn, it wasn’t ever _ enough_. That thirst to burn came partially from the Promare, Lio knows, but a good portion of it is his desire as well. So many of their problems could be solved if Lio let the fire inside himself rage how it was meant to, if he let his control slip, and that’s exactly why he can’t allow it. He also can’t keep it bottled up forever; there’s a medium to be found. Maybe not a happy medium, but one all the same. The Burnish are better than Kray, better than the Foresight Foundation, better than the Freeze Force: they have to be, or what else do they have? 

Being better than all of that takes effort, though. It requires Lio to leash his anger, his spite, and turn it into something more productive. Galo doesn’t seem to have the problem. Somehow, despite the world they live in, Galo is inherently _ good. _His certainty in the right thing isn’t spun from the belief that the Burnish are evil, it’s because Galo looks at the world and sees the good in it, no matter what. Lio can’t imagine it, can’t imagine looking at all the ugliness that exists out there and thinking that there is good there underneath everything, until Galo. 

Somehow, the world hasn’t beaten all the kindness out of him, somehow Galo hasn’t done what so many of them have done and locked all of that softness and gentleness down inside his chest to protect it. Somehow, Galo hasn’t ever hit the point of _ too much _ because he doesn’t seem to have any limits. 

Even when they see the world at its absolute worst: wrenching open door after door of (hopefully) survivors and (realistically) those who weren’t, Galo forces cheer into his tone, helping people out one after the other with the same warm assurances that they’re going to be okay. The more Galo says it, the more Lio starts to believe that maybe, _ maybe _, it’s possible, it’s true. 

It would be easier if he had his Promare, though. 

Things hurt_, _now. Lio opens up door after door and his ribs scream in protest, exhaustion hanging heavily on him like the weight of the mech he powered. He’s no longer full of burning, bright power that heals injuries and gives him the ability to keep moving despite the limitations of a human body. When his hands start to get rubbed raw and red from opening the vaults, the skin doesn’t regenerate. They blister, the blisters pop, his hands bleed. He gets cold. His bones don’t knit together any longer, and each breath in feels like a fight all on its own, the sharp, aching pain of it nearly knocking him over when he moves wrong. 

He’s _ weak._

As much as the relief of saving the world is there (and it _ is) _ he’s also aware that there are limitations to what he can do. He doesn’t have Galo or Varys’ strength, he’s just _ him. _ Worse than the lack of strength, he’s finding, is the _quiet _ . With the Promare, Lio never felt alone. He could feel all of them, all of the Burnish, could hear them like faint whispers in the back of his mind combined with the soft urging to burn, burn _ burn. _ Now, there’s nothing to distract him from the awful, unearthly moaning and wailing from inside the pods or worse: the silence from the ones he opens and no one comes out of.

Each lost life is a reminder of those limitations and as he counts each one he promises them it won’t be in vain. They’ve won: they have to make it worthwhile, they have to hold out hope that it’s going to be better than just _ okay_. Lio had proposed a city all their own. Galo makes him think that maybe they can do something better. Hope is easier, now, watching Galo help a child out of a pod, this absurd, loud, gentle giant who hefts the little girl up onto his shoulders and dramatically makes his way to the end of the walkway with wet, hesitant giggles sounding above him. 

This will be worth it. All of the people here, helping, care and want to build a better world and this is where it starts. They may not be able to change every mind at once but progress is progress, and Galo gives him hope just like he gives it to everyone else around him: with full enthusiasm. 

🔼🔽🔼

Galo, frustratingly, also _ scolds _ with full enthusiasm, fluttering around Lio anxiously at the mention of broken ribs. Lio’s eyes meet the Captain’s through his sunglasses, betrayed when the comment about broken ribs is made and the Captain just looks back, unimpressed and not intimidated in the slightest. Those stupid glasses mean he wins every staring contest he gets into and somehow he still manages to convey his disappointment over the three of them still being there despite his orders.

Still, despite not being Lio’s leader, the Captain is a good man and wants to help, but more than that: he listens to Lio when he talks. He trusts Lio to know what’s best for his people, to know what is needed and makes it happen and the relief that it allows Lio is utterly priceless. 

Winning mixed with this odd flush of hope makes him almost giddy, despite the absolute horrors they’ve encountered. There’s good in this world, and Galo’s so good he practically shines it out of his pores, leaving Lio to want to bask in it like a cat in the sun. 

There’s still good in this world and together, they’re going to build one where things are better, easier. Kinder.

Sliding onto the motorcycle behind Galo makes his whole body ache but the moment their skin comes into contact, Lio feels the ground drop out from under him. He’d felt the loss of his Promare, like an hourglass slowly losing the last few grains of sand. While he would do anything to save the world a part of him wished that there was some other way. The moment he touches Galo, he knows he’s wrong. The Promare aren’t gone all the way; Galo is _ burning._

It’s like being close to a blazing campfire folding up against Galo’s back like this. The bulk of him cuts through the wind as they tear down the open road, taking side roads when and where possible. Lio can’t recall the last time he actually rode a motorcycle proper; there wasn’t any learning curve required with the one he could summon since summoning was arguably the most difficult part. 

The ride home is easy; what comes after is less so. Galo’s taking him home. He doesn’t think twice before opening his door to someone who is still, ostensibly, a stranger. Despite having so much taken from him all he wants to do is give. Lio needs to figure out how to be half that brave. Stupid, too, maybe but a little stupid and a lot kind is better than what Lio’s been dealing with: smart and cruel. 

Arriving at Galo’s apartment gives him a place to start.

Shower, couch, sleep as long as humanly possible and then get back up to do it again. At some point, try to figure out if anyone else has felt...what he’d felt on the bike, but only after he’s made sure the rest of the Burnish are alright. 

“You can stay as long as you need to,” Galo says casually as they’re getting settled and Lio starts taking stock of his apartment. He’s not sure what he should say to that, so he stays quiet, considering. It might not be forever, but he has no doubt that Galo means it wholeheartedly. His apartment is open to Lio, for as long as he needs. He’s going to have a singular location to store his things. It won’t be moving, moving, moving, barely having the room to keep a few things let alone a room full of them. It might not happen right away, sure, but even having a corner of one of Galo’s rooms is more than he’s had in ages. 

It’s incredible. It’s overwhelming. The apartment isn’t exactly large but for a moment all of the space feels as if it’s too much even as the walls feel like they’re closing in on him. There are escape routes built in to the apartment in case of fire; Lio notes them, the go-bag parked at the front door, the way all of Galo’s windows have clear paths to them. It’s just another reason to hate what Kray’s done. 

_ What’s fun about burning down people’s houses_, Galo asked him angrily when they’d first met. It wasn’t about fun, but Lio hadn’t understood why Galo asked that until later, until Kray. 

The bathroom is a safe bet for privacy and for Lio to recompose himself without needing to answer questions about if he’s alright, so he ducks in there and stands under the hot water until he can force his breathing steady. It takes longer than he wants to admit to pull himself together, sitting under the spray of fresh, hot water as long as humanly possible, hands buried in his hair. He has Meis and Guiera, but also Galo, his team. It’s going to be okay, it’s _ going to be okay. _

Still. He feels a little cowardly hiding in the bathroom for so long. Once he’s certain he’s going to be able to step out there and have a handle on himself he goes through the motions of bathing, keeping his face tilted to it the whole time. Even Galo’s soap is loud, the smell of it overwhelming in the tiny, humid bathroom.

The water starting to go cold is his only indication that he’s been in there forever; slipping out, he takes the clothes that were left outside and bundles himself up in them. They’re ridiculously oversized but cozier than he expects. It makes leaving the humid warmth of the bathroom bearable. Stepping out and into Galo’s clothes also feels more satisfying than he expects. It feels like wearing a sign that says Galo is his, sure, but also like it’s physical proof that Galo has weighed the best and worst parts of him and still found him worthy. 

How do you repay someone for that kind of kindness? 

Apparently, by saving their houseplant from drowning and later accidentally attacking them. He at least feels a little bad about the last one, but mostly he’s _ confused_. Drawing the power from Galo had felt just like drawing it from himself, if a little more difficult, but with it comes the same impressions, sensations that had bled over when they were piloting the mech together. The skin on Lio’s hands re-knits. He takes a breath and the stabbing pain has vanished. 

Meis and Gueira’s flames never felt like this. He could use their flames and share his own with the two of them but this feels _ different_. This feels like reaching into all that burning bright sunlight Galo holds, and pulling it out into himself, warming himself from the inside out. With the flush of power sliding through him come vague impressions, feelings. The urge to protect and rescue so strong it nearly makes his feet move without him, but there’s no overwhelming urge to burn. If anything, it feels like Galo’s banked the flames inside his soul and turned them outward as action rather than flares. Flames flicker over Lio’s fingertips and he pulls again at the fire, stopping when the bleed of feelings comes with it. Frustration and exhaustion are a given, but somehow and the strongest among them is this raw sense of awe, of something raw and warm and affectionate— 

Oh. 

Suspicion is one thing but confirmation is something else entirely. Now that he’s felt this, though, he can’t seem to stop himself from wanting to touch Galo all of the time. Galo, who wears his whole heart on his sleeve. The least Lio can do is be half as brave as he is, so instead of taking the couch as he’d planned he heads into Galo’s room and stretches out on the bed, curious to see what he’s going to do. Galo might be a decent person, but Lio isn’t nearly as much and it’s a little thrilling to fluster him, watch him glance from the bed out to the couch before deciding he’s going to climb in. 

It’s a victory all on its own, because the sheets are cold and the moment Galo slides under the covers, back to him, Lio fits himself up against the absurdly broad, firm line of his back, hiding his smile at the way Galo’s whole body tenses and he inhales, sharply. Resisting the Promare’s inherent desire to burn was something Lio was capable of but somehow, resisting the urge to touch Galo’s bare skin is impossible, so he stops trying. 

He’s fought and bled and nearly died for the ability to have this, hasn’t he? Now, he gets to enjoy the spoils of victory, even if those spoils are simple: running water, a marshmallow-soft bed, and a broad, kind, horribly handsome firefighter, that uses terribly generic body wash and a two in one conditioner and shampoo. 

Besides, it’s cute flustering him. Lio gets the idea that Galo’s devoted himself for so long and so hard to firefighting that he hasn’t done much else which means it’s easy to wreck his well-intentioned cheerfulness with a hand over his hip, or the simple action of sliding up behind him and holding him. Less cute, is how Galo seems to realize that this ability to tease goes both ways. He takes Lio’s hand in his stupidly large ones and starts...touching him. It doesn’t have any intent in it, Galo’s not trying to roll over and press him into the bed, not trying to start anything. He’s just..._ touching. _

Lio’s stomach flip-flops and he’s endlessly grateful for the fact that his face is hidden behind Galo’s back, some measure of privacy afforded to him. It makes it easier to laugh, to press his face into a shoulder, to feel the corners of his lips stretch up, to think, oh, _ oh_, this is happiness, and fall asleep.

🔼🔽🔼

Galo’s steady inhale-exhale is its own kind of comforting.

Proof of life curled up in the other half of the bed, the warmth of him within reach when Lio is jarred from an uneasy doze, heart pounding a furious, panicked rhythm in his throat. The first time, he rolls over and mashes his face into Galo’s arm, attempting to get back to sleep.

Despite the exhaustion, sleep doesn’t seem possible; every time he tries to reach for it he manages for what feels like a few scant minutes and something jerks him out of it. A part of him wants to blame it on Galo; he moves in his sleep, unable to stay still even when he’s supposed to be resting but instead of annoying it’s just...comforting. More than once Lio has awoken to Galo shifting in the sheets, groping an arm out to him, tugging him back in close if he’s moved. 

Galo does it the second time like he has some kind of sixth sense about Lio in distress. Lio wakes with a jolt and Galo mumbles something in his sleep, reaching out to flop an arm around Lio’s chest, squeezing gently. It doesn’t help the nightmares but it does help him get to sleep again. 

Lio dreams of screams so loud that he tries to plug his ears but his hands are lashed so far apart his shoulders ache with the tension. One of the Burnish staggers out of their pod, face gaunt, reaching a hand out to him. _ Please, please, _it rasps, the same echo he’d heard pod after pod as he tried to open them as fast as possible but never fast enough. 

He could feel it, could feel _ them _ when he was hooked up to the engine, Kray channeling everything through him. Kray had intended it to make him angry and oh, had it ever worked, but he also hadn’t intended for Lio to survive it and now Lio has to figure out exactly how he’s going to do that. 

_ Please, boss, please_, the husk begs, grasping at his feet, clawing at his legs, crawling up him while he desperately tries to breathe, to pull away but his body won’t respond. He wakes up with a gasp lodged in his throat, trembling under the comforting, hot weight of Galo draped over him, snoring softly. Sleep doesn’t come to him, but it’s less than an hour before they have to get ready to go back, so he may as well get up anyway. There’s no reason for Galo to suffer because he can’t control his dreams. 

Maybe it’s greedy, but he does allow himself the leisure of a few extra moments of lingering, admiring the line of Galo’s jaw, the way his hair flops into his eyes, messy, endearing. Then, steeling himself, he peels that arm off of himself and pads out into the kitchen to make the strongest coffee possible. 

Galo owns exactly four mugs, and three of them are from Burning Rescue. The fourth is a baby blue fire hydrant, which is so fucking absurd and _ Galo _ that Lio has to use it, pouring a cup and letting it sit while he goes hunting for some way to keep up on what’s going on outside this little pocket of warmth. 

There’s a tablet plugged in and charging on the kitchen counter. When Lio’s thumb slides over it, a prompt for a password comes up and he glances at the bedroom door, wondering if he could use Galo’s thumbprint without waking him up. Probably; he hadn’t moved at all when Lio had shifted out from underneath him, but now that he’s looking around the apartment again he realizes what the most likely answer is. 

> **PASSWORD**   
> matoi
> 
>   
**PASSWORD INCORRECT. TWO ATTEMPTS REMAINING:**  
> firefighting 
> 
> **PASSWORD INCORRECT. ONE ATTEMPT REMAINING: **

Lio chews at a thumbnail, curling up on the kitchen chair, a hand wrapped around his coffee and tries one last time. 

> **PASSWORD**:   
> MATOI
> 
> **Password accepted! **

The laugh that bubbles up from inside his chest startles him, the absurdity of it so strong that he can’t help but press his face into his knees, shaking his head. Of course, of course. Galo’s still asleep, so it’s safe to gaze into the bedroom where one meaty arm is hanging off the edge of the bed, safe to allow himself a moment of weakness, safe to think about crawling back into bed with him even if he knows he won’t. 

By the time Galo wakes properly, Lio’s on his third cup of coffee and has already figured out who all of the Burning Rescue members are despite their utterly absurd chat names. Galo’s just as much of a force of nature early in the morning as he is at any other point in time, but it feels especially overwhelming after last night, after _ everything _that’s happened. The line of Galo’s shirt rises when he stretches and Lio’s eyes are drawn there helplessly, drinking in the sight of his hips, the flash of skin, the trail of hair that leads down under his pants. 

Galo doesn’t wear underwear, because of fucking course he doesn’t. Lio _ knows _ this but it feels like too much knowledge because now he can’t stop thinking about it. If he wanted, he could hook his fingers in the waist of Galo’s pants, tug him in, and start something and Galo would be more than eager. The certainty is its own kind of rush but other people need them more and Lio’s wants will always come second to the rest of the Burnish needs and Galo deserves better than Lio doing it just for himself.

He’s still cold, but the promise of a hot meal is enough to sate him and when it’s plunked down in front of him for a moment Lio doesn’t know where to start. One of his last meals had been the granola bars they’d handed out to rescuers, along with a bottle of water. Before that, some canned fruit, beans, rock hard bread that was leftover once they had finished feeding everyone. 

Galo had meant it when he said he was going to make Lio the best breakfast ever. Lio hadn’t doubted him, but it’s one thing to believe it and another thing to be presented with an absurdly full spread of options. The grapes pop in his mouth, perfectly tart and sweet. The vegetables aren’t wilted from the vendors selling Burnish only the undesirable parts. It’s _ delicious _ and the moment Lio starts eating his body makes him hyper-aware of how long it’s been since he’s had a full meal. Even burning his tongue on his coffee isn’t enough to rid him of the good mood a hot meal puts him in because it’s easily fixed by reaching a leg out and hooking his foot around Galo’s. The resulting rush of heat and power heals it in an instant and after he’s almost cleared a plate, he brings himself to tell Galo about the trial. 

Everyone at Burning Rescue seems to agree that Kray’s reaped what he’s sown, but they all seem so...certain that it’s going to go well. Despite how much political infighting, how much corruption they’ve seen they are holding out for justice to be done. Lio can’t quite imagine that it’s going to be possible but he wants to hope as well. Galo makes it easy to do; he’s been betrayed by his mentor, his hero, and yet looks Lio in the eyes and tells him with full seriousness, “He needs to answer for what he’s done, properly.” 

Lio’s seen what betrayal does to otherwise good men and women. War can make monsters out of the most well-intentioned people, mutating their intent into something awful and twisted if they aren’t careful. There’s none of that in Galo’s open face, in the way he reacts to the news he’s being told. He’s been betrayed and instead of lingering on it, he turns the entirety of his attention to fixing the wrongs his hero has perpetuated. He’s so good Lio doesn’t know what to do with himself, so he stares down at his oatmeal and tries not to wonder how he gets to be so lucky when so many others weren’t. 

🔼🔽🔼 

Somehow, Galo’s bathroom becomes a kind of refuge from the brutally long, endlessly frustrating days. Galo’s developed Burnish flames despite supposedly sending all of the Promare back to their star, which means that Lio only feels a little guilty about stealing all of the hot water for his showers, sitting with his face tilted up to the flow of water until he feels like he can handle whatever comes next, or the hot water runs out, whichever is first. 

They fall into a routine, coming home exhausted, alternating showers and Galo makes good on his promise of making the best meals that Lio’s had in ages. 

At night, he crawls into Galo’s bed and every time, a part of him expects that Galo’s going to roll over and maybe, finally, they’re going to do something else entirely, but he never does. Lio slots himself up against Galo from behind and they...talk. Neither of them seems to be able to stop touching each other, but it always feels almost _chaste,_ even if he knows Galo looks at him like that (even if he looks at Galo the same way.) 

“What’s out there?” Galo asks sleepily one night. They’ve taken up what’s somehow become their normal positions with Galo stretched out on the bed, Lio fitted up behind him, stroking his fingers up and down the scarred line of Galo’s arm, tracing where the skin healed raggedly. A firefighter with burns isn’t a surprise, but the first time Lio had touched it, Galo flinched. He hadn’t asked Lio to stop doing it, and when Lio had avoided that arm the next night Galo’d dragged his hand up there with _it’s okay. _

“Out there” isn’t exactly the most specific direction, but Lio understands what he means all the same. Galo hasn’t been outside the city walls at all, ever. 

“Desert,” Lio answers after a few moments of considering it, running his index finger along the swell of Galo’s absurdly large bicep, watching goosebumps rise in the wake of his touch. He might be weaker, now, but somehow the simplicity of how easily he can make Galo’s body react to him makes him feel powerful. “It’s starting to grow back, though. There are patches of green the more it rains. We camped in one of them, a few months ago. Meis saw a rabbit and shouted so loud he scared it away.” 

Against him, Galo’s body shakes with laughter and Lio hides his smile, forehead pressed against the space between his shoulder blades. It’s...so easy to make him laugh, he can’t get over it. “A bunny, huh? Hey! I was showing the kiddos this earlier.” 

Galo’s hand lifts and Lio’s arm drapes around his chest obligingly, not sure what he’s trying to do until a shadow creeps up the wall, Galo’s first two fingers forming ears, his thumb curving around his knuckles to make a nose. Lio’s head lifts to see it and then he drops back down to the pillow, squeezing Galo. It’s stupid, it’s so, so stupid, but so painfully earnest that he can’t help but laugh again in response, pressing his cheek against Galo’s back to hide his smile. “Gueira wanted to catch and eat it, but one of the children was so upset at the idea of it that he couldn’t do it. Neither of them knew how to cook and clean a rabbit, anyway.” 

There are moments where Lio’s not certain if he’s said too much. Galo knows that it was difficult for the Burnish, but hasn’t quite realized the full extent of it. The idea of hunting for food and having to clean it, cook it is beyond him but the thought doesn’t make Lio envious or jealous, just...relieved. It’s one less hardship Galo’s had to experience, but a part of him still feels guilty for bringing it up. 

For a while, there’s silence again, punctuated only by the soft, even breath in and out from Galo, and the rustle of sheets as they adjust. Lio dozes, waking every few moments when Galo stirs, stroking his fingers down the line of Galo’s arm, his chest, whatever is closest idly. 

They still haven’t addressed anything yet. Lio doesn’t think of himself or Galo as a coward, but a part of him wonders if it’s cowardly to keep doing this without really acknowledging what it means, what it _could_ mean. 

“Can hear you thinkin’ back there,” Galo rumbles, voice thicker, deeper with the edge of sleep. He’s never _ quiet_, but Lio loves moments like this, where he’s clearly less than half-awake but trying to stay up until Lio manages to get to sleep. “You think _ m’loud, _you’re...” 

“You’re _ very _ loud,” Lio tells him, because it’s true. “Don’t worry. I’ll fall asleep soon.” 

His hand goes flat against Galo’s chest and he fits himself more securely against the broad spread of his back to feel Galo’s response, a sleep-thick agreement that are not really words so much as it is a noise. One of Lio’s sock-clad feet strokes affectionately against Galo’s leg just for the way Galo hums, leaning the full weight of himself back into it. 

It’s obvious the moment Galo finally does get to sleep. The tension drains out of him and he melts into the bed, all loose-limbed and sweet. He tends to roll onto his back, like that’s how he _ normally _ sleeps when he’s not letting Lio determine how they’re fitting together under the sheets, taking up the vast entirety of his queen-sized bed. He also sleeps like a _ rock _, which means a few moments later when Galo rolls over, Lio can shift and drape himself over Galo’s chest, head pressed against a shoulder, cheek resting over the steady thud of his heart. He always forgets to close the curtains and Lio never does it for him because the bleed of moonlight or daylight through the window lights him up in muted shades of blue and orange. 

He could spend hours just looking at Galo. It’s utterly ridiculous, but there’s no one to see his weakness, here, so Lio allows himself a moment of it. A fingertip traces along the swell of Galo’s bottom lip, down over his chin and then curves over his jaw, fingertips resting over Galo’s steady pulse for a few moments and down to his collarbone, sparks following the path blinking in and out like lightning bugs. Under him, Galo yawns in his sleep like he can feel it and for a moment Lio thinks he’s accidentally awoken him but Galo does nothing more than drool onto his pillow and flop his arm tighter around Lio’s waist.

“You’re ridiculous,” Lio tells him quietly, sliding a leg over one of Galo’s thighs, closing his eyes. Despite the comfort of Galo solid and sturdy underneath him, against him, it’s not enough to ward off nightmares. When he’s startled out of sleep with a scream caught in his throat, he’s used to it and knows to inhale, hold, and exhale through his nose until he has himself under control. Treating panic isn’t unlike tending a fire; a controlled flow of oxygen is the only way to contain it, to manage it. 

It’s stopped being horrific and mostly become irritating more than anything else. This lack of control is infuriating because he can’t choose what happens when he sleeps and his body seems determined to disobey him at every turn. Shaking an arm out to start blood flowing back to it where it’d gone numb, he sucks in a fortifying breath and pushes himself up out of the blankets. 

Galo’s back to taking up the entirety of the bed, one leg draped over the edge of it and as Lio clambers out he gently plops it back on the bed and tugs the covers over him. It’s not necessary with how _ warm _ he always is, but that doesn’t matter. If he takes an extra moment to admire the sprawl of Galo across the bed, well, no one is awake to know but him. 

🔼🔽🔼

Despite Galo’s absurd size and strength, he’s somehow the most gentle person Lio’s ever met. He’s relatively certain that Galo doesn’t even _ realize_, but Lio sees it in action every day, little moments that he’s sure no one else pays attention to but he can’t seem to _stop noticing_. 

The ex-Burnish adults are mostly settled within Parnassus while he and the others work on figuring out actual, real accommodations. To protect the children and the elderly, they’ve been moved to a secondary location. It’s less than an hour drive away from Burning Rescue, on the edges of town where Ignis owns a few acres of land and has what is effectively a ranch. 

They take a couple of trucks to move everyone to the secondary location and while it’s not _ exactly _enough room, they make do. “We’re used to less,” Lio says quietly after they’ve settled everyone in as best as they can. “Not that it makes it acceptable, but we are. This is enough. Thank you.” 

Ignis crosses his arms over the barrel of his chest and Lio realizes the twitch of his eyebrows and mustache means he’s frowning. He’s not sure what to do with the realization that he’s spent enough time around Ignis that he _ knows _ things like that. “Don’t thank me for this. It’s the least I can do, and it still isn’t enough. I know that. Everyone else knows that.” 

It’s not. Lio doesn’t bother trying to argue with him that it is, that it’s fine because nothing about this situation is fine by any means. They can’t fit a few hundred people in a house meant for six or seven, comfortably, but they set up emergency tents out in the yard and Ignis calls in favor after favor for cots, blankets, space heaters. The forest line hides most of it from sight and it is, as far as Lio can tell, as safe as they can hope to make it. 

“It’s enough for now,” Lio tells him, finally, watching as Galo tears out of the front door, loudly stomping down the steps with a herd of children screaming and following him. One of the kids manages to catch him, slamming into his waist and Galo throws his hands up dramatically, collapsing to the ground only once he’s checked to make sure that he isn’t going to accidentally fall on one of them. All that’s visible of him is a hand lifted up and then the yard goes noisy with gleeful screams as he hefts the kids up like some kind of wriggling bouquet of limbs. 

He’s so gentle. He puts them down carefully despite the roughhousing they’re doing and takes off at a run again, chasing after one of them who has, apparently, been declared “it”, his strides long and exaggerated to give the child time to run away from him. 

“Nice to have kids around again,” Ignis says casually, and Lio instantly turns the majority of his attention to the older man, because it’s not often that Ignis volunteers any personal information about himself outside what is available on his desk or in the files that Lio absolutely should not have access to. “The grandkids are barely learning to walk, and the kids are too old, so this place has been empty for a few months.” 

On the lawn, Galo has two kids on his shoulders, sticky hands buried in his hair, and another two kids on his legs as he takes each step, glancing over at the both of them. “Lio, help!” he calls across the lawn, a third child fitting herself to his leg like some kind of child-made mecha. He slaps a hand against his chest, over-dramatic. “I’m being overrun!” 

“Better go save him,” Ignis says, sunlight reflecting off his glasses. The mustache makes it hard to see, but Lio knows him well enough at this point to know he’s smiling. “Make him eat something, too.” 

“You’re _ not _ my captain,” Lio tosses casually over his shoulder and goes to rescue Galo from the herd of children, plucking one of them, Alia, off of him effortlessly, scooping her up onto his hip. “Brought down by a handful of toddlers, I see.” 

“I’m _ nine,” _Alia says indignantly and Lio raises both eyebrows at her, grinning despite himself. 

“I apologize, brought down by a herd of toddlers and a nine-year-old,” Lio says, very seriously and wades through the mess of children to offer his free hand out to Galo who is sprawled dramatically out on the grass. “I’m sorry to steal him, but Captain Ignis has ordered me to take him back and make sure he eats something. Lunch is almost ready for the rest of you, too.” 

“Boooooo, but hey, lunch!” Galo calls from the ground, echoed by his enthused mass of beaming kids, but he clasps Lio’s forearm and hops up carefully. Once he’s on his feet, he’s reaching down, ruffling the hair of the youngest boy, gap-toothed and painfully shy. Somehow, after just a few moments of knowing him, Galo’s pulled him out of his shell and got him playing with the rest of the children. Lio doesn’t know how he _ does _ it. While they’re all standing around Galo, Lio can’t help but notice the way they’re looking at him, like he’s the single most incredible thing they’ve ever seen. Galo’d saved a fair number of them; it’s not impossible. “Alright, alright! You remember what I said earlier, right!” 

An uneven chorus of yeses follows and another few moments are spent just giving high-fives and fist-bumps to them as the kids run off to where Alia’s father is waving them over from the porch, a platter of sandwiches piled high. 

“You’re a mess,” Lio tells him once they’re mostly alone, reaching out to smooth a hand over where there are grass stains all over the shirt he’s wearing. Galo’s hand snaps up to catch his and his other rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. “You go through shirts faster than anyone I’ve ever met. What did you tell them, earlier?” 

“Huh?” Galo releases his hand after a squeeze and then sidles up next to him to drape a sweaty arm around Lio’s shoulders, guiding them as they walk toward the long driveway out to where Galo’s motorcycle is parked. “Oh! Haha, I just told ‘em that if they were _ really _ good tonight and went to bed without fussin’, we’d bring the fire truck by tomorrow so they could sit in it. Gonna do it anyway, but I guess some of the kids are having trouble going to sleep at night so they were pretty pumped to hear about the truck.” 

Of course he did. Galo’s kindness doesn’t shock him anymore but it still makes his chest tight at the easy way Galo offers it out without expecting anything in return. He smells like sweat and grass and sunlight and a little shamelessly, Lio fits himself more firmly under Galo’s arm to press his cheek against the sun-warmed expanse of his shoulder, his fingers hooking in the loose waist of Galo’s pants at the hip. Maybe it’s the heat, or the sun, or the fact that it’s been an exceptionally good day that makes him a little braver. Whatever the case, it’s entirely worth it for the way Galo looks down at him, grass in his hair, lit up by the sun high in the sky behind him, smiling. 

He’s so _handsome_ that Lio wants to tug him down by his stupid, messy hair and kiss him within an inch of his life. Instead, he slides out from under Galo’s arm and onto the bike, smiling over his shoulder as Galo eases up behind him, big hands lingering just a moment too long to be _just_ steadying as Lio starts the motorcycle. 

“Hey,” Galo says before the engine starts, hooking his chin over Lio’s shoulder. “You think you can help me convince the Captain to let us get a fire station dog? _ Apparently_, it’s weird that we don’t have a dalmatian hanging around. It’s for the kids.” 

Before… everything, Lio had a dog. Sleek and particular, only willing to let Lio and a few others near her. He’s not entirely certain what’s happened to her these days, not sure if he’s at a point where he can handle knowing. The life before didn’t matter anymore, not when he has this one to live.

“Your plant has barely started to grow back the leaves its lost, and now you want a dog?” Lio starts the engine, feeling her purr to life underneath them and has to speak up to be heard over the rev. A dog would probably do them both some good, when things have calmed down and they have the time to dedicate. 

“Can’t over-water a dog,” Galo says cheerfully, and whoops when Lio guns it, speeding out onto the road back into the city with Galo holding him tightly. 

It’s only later that night, lying awake with Galo snoring on his chest as Lio runs fingers through his hair, that he realizes he’d thought _ a dog would do _ ** _them_ ** _ both some good. _

Not Galo, not Lio, but them. Huh. 

🔼🔽🔼

The days are still ridiculously long, but they get better. Sometimes, it makes the bad days all the worse. Tam Joven is their third and current point of contact from the interim governor's office. The last two made it a few weeks before quitting; as far as Lio’s heard, they’re both as far as humanly possible from the Burnish resettlement project. They could only be so lucky if Tam Joven were to join them.

“We just believe that perhaps, given the...delicate nature of things at this point in time, some...tactfulness and caution is best. It is just a temporary solution until more suitable accommodations are found. Rome wasn’t built in a day. We never received your housing resettlement report, either, I’m afraid.” Tam’s voice drips with faux-concern, glancing up to meet Lio’s stare. He breaks first, shuffling his paperwork awkwardly, unable to keep meeting Lio’s eyes. His distaste for the man grows.

Beside him, Gueira is about two seconds from snapping the pen he’s holding in half and Meis doesn’t bother holding back his incredulous noise as they’re condescended to. “_ Rome?” _ Meis asks incredulously. “We’re not talkin’ about _ Rome.” _

“We’re not,” Lio says smoothly, flattening his hands over the table, voice terribly, terribly even. “To be clear, what exactly happened to the multiple reports we submitted to your offices detailing exactly what was expected and the _ bare minimum _ we would agree to? I remember emailing, mailing and bringing you a physical copy three weeks ago, after they kept being _ misplaced _.” 

They were not, in fact, ever misplaced. Lio is intimately familiar with the kind of bureaucratic bullshit he will have to wade through in order to gain any ground for the ex-Burnish, but that doesn’t mean he is particularly fond of it. 

“You guys lose shit so often it’s kinda impressive,” Gueira says, his pen safely out of his hand, while Meis digs around in the bag Lio had brought, fishing out a massive stack of paperwork, thunking it down in front of an increasingly purpling Tam. “Don’t worry, brought you another copy.” 

“I’ll be certain to email over another copy for your digital records,” Lio smiles, showing all of his teeth and is even more pleased when Tam instantly starts fumbling, trying to cover his ass. “If you’ll take a look at page one.” 

When it’s over and Tam has been escorted off Burning Rescue property and into his shiny black car, Lio is exhausted. He hasn’t been lifting rubble all day like Galo has, but it’s a different kind of exhaustion, one born from fighting a battle with something he can’t physically touch from behind a table.

“Man, I miss being able to armor up and punch my problems away,” Meis mutters, fishing a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, smacking it twice against his thigh before tugging one out. A self pat-down ensues as he tries to find his lighter. “Both of you can, maybe we’d get somewhere if that’s how we handled it.” 

Lio doesn’t point out that unless he’s touching Galo, he doesn’t seem to be able to, nor can he help with Meis’ lost lighter. The frustration of it is like salt on an already tender wound, but it’s not Meis’ fault. 

“Here,” Gueira leans over and pinches the end of the cigarette for just a moment. When his fingers withdraw, the end is a dull orange and Meis takes a happy drag off of it, sinking against the wall. “I mean, we haven’t tried it yet, boss…” 

“Every day I’m more tempted to let you,” Lio sighs, pushing himself off of the wall. It’s late enough that the chill as the wind blows around the corner feels like it’s sliding icy fingers under every bit of his clothing and he hates it. Next to him, Meis seems similarly displeased with the breeze, shoulders hunching until Gueira takes pity on him and tosses his jacket over bony shoulders. “We’ll manage. I told you before, we won’t let them extinguish our flames.” 

Even lacking them just as Lio is, Meis shoots him a grin and nods, Gueira stomping the ground, holding his fist out in agreement. “Hell yeah we won’t.” 

In his pocket, his phone vibrates once, twice, and then keeps vibrating. Both Meis and Gueira glance at his pocket and Lio braces for the twin _ looks _ he gets from both of them. Knocking his fist against Gueira’s, he rolls his eyes at both of them and pulls his phone out to look at it. It’s been forever since he’s had one and once again, it’s an obnoxious necessity with everything going on. This isn’t work, or an office phone call; they’re the only ones working this late. Instead, lit up on the screen is: 

> **21:08 Galo:** hey   
**21:08 Galo:** wait hang on   
**21:08 Galo:** look at this [dog](https://teaandinanity.tumblr.com/post/188203519134/in-the-continuing-adventures-of-me-throwing-fanart) i saw today first 

Lio opens it to the sight of Galo flexing a pose with his arms full of approximately eighty pounds of fluff, beaming like a lunatic. Over Lio’s shoulder, twin shadows fall and Meis exhales smoke over his shoulder, “Oh, man.” 

“He’s really just _ like that _ all the time, huh? Good for you,” Gueira asks, patting Lio on the back.

It’s clear that he means it and Lio takes it for the well-wishing it is, but he’s spent too long making certain that Gueira and Meis know to challenge him, to talk to him like he’s one of them even if they insist on calling him boss. Lio already knows what’s coming. 

“Who woulda thought the boss’ type is dumb puppy?” 

There it is. 

Lio thumbs through menus to save the image and navigates to settings as text keeps appearing. It’s better to let Galo finish before trying to answer any of his questions or it just gets confusing, so he sets the image as his new wallpaper while he waits. “I’ve mostly got him housetrained at this point.” 

> **21:09 Galo:** GREAT RIGHT the best dog  
**21:09 Galo:** okay but anyways TODAY was NOT GREAT for either of us i heard so are you done with work   
**21:09 Galo:** if you’re not CAN you be done with work i mean ill wait we’re still 10 away  
**21:09 Galo:** if not it’s ok i can also get food  
**21:09 Galo:** i just thought we could go for a ride & hike tonight i brought your jacket   
**21:09 Galo:** lio that DOG WAS INCREDIBLE 

**21: 09:** It’s a very good photo, thank you. We just finished for the day, I’m with Meis and Gueira outside. A ride and hike sound good. See you soon.

> **21:09 Galo:** NO SMOKING W/IN 20 FEET OF THE DOORWAYS AND THE GARAGE!!!!!!  
**21:09 Galo:** tell them hi

“Your boyfriend thinks he’s a cop instead of a firefighter,” Meis snickers even as he takes three big steps away from the wall, already more than twenty feet away from any doors or the garage but moving further obligingly all the same. “We’ll see you tomorrow, boss!” 

“Have a good night,” Lio slides his phone back into his pocket, unbearably fond of both of these assholes, looping around the building to go wait by Galo’s motorcycle until the fire truck comes screaming in. Galo’s already leaning half out of the truck, hopping down as it starts to make its turn into the garage. Lio’s seen it enough times to know Galo’s not going to hit him, or fall (and that he’d be fine anyway, given he can currently regenerate) and doesn’t flinch when nearly two hundred pounds of excited firefighter comes at him. 

“Hey!” Despite moving tons of rubble and debris today, Galo looks no worse for wear. “I heard you were in _ seven and a half hours _of meetings with the guy who keeps losing your paperwork. What a jerk.” 

After a moment of watching Galo pat around unsuccessfully, Lio sighs and comes close to palm his back pocket, plucking them out. A miserable mood is boiling right underneath his skin and he knows that the moment he doesn’t have to be _on_ anymore he’s going to probably be semi-unpleasant to be around, but they’ll be riding for most of it. He’ll have himself under control by then. Lio shrugs his coat on and zips it up to his chin, watching color rise from the collar of Galo’s shirt up as he realizes Lio’s grabbed the keys. 

“You’re driving,” Lio prompts, and slides onto the motorcycle, patting the seat because once he considers it he can’t _ not _ do it just for the way Galo flusters. Somehow, with minimal effort Galo just does this. Makes him feel better without even trying. Meis and Gueira, he understands. They’ve both known him for so long that they understand how to treat him during days like this. _ Galo _ just being able to do it still feels like an impossibility. “You promised hiking.” 

“I did!” Galo turns the key and underneath them the bike purrs to life. Lio’s already a hundred times warmer than he was standing against the wall with the other two, like he’s holding some kind of miniature sun. “I am gonna take you on the _ best _ hiking trip.” 

It’s true. Lio’s realized by now that when Galo promises something, he means it. He still expects to be furious the whole ride up but halfway up the trail to the lake and is, for the most part. It’s a long, winding path up the mountain. Lio remembers it from being in the truck, Gueira gritting his teeth as he took every turn as gently as possible on the way down. _ That _ had been to try and keep everyone calm and comfortable as they escaped, but they’re just riding to the top so he’s not sure why they’re going so painfully slow. Just as they round a corner and Lio leans forward to ask, the treeline breaks and Promepolis is laid out beneath them, all flickering lights and massive buildings. 

Even with Parnassus and the bad memories attached, the skyline is gorgeous. Galo takes the next handful of turns slow and easy so they can drink the sights in, until the road cuts down toward the lake. Just before he guns it again, Galo leans back and calls, “Good reminder what it’s for, huh?” 

It is. Lio doesn’t remember seeing this view out the window when they were in the truck. He hadn’t been looking, though, too distracted to even think of taking note of the city skyline. Despite his lack of attention, though, the city moves on. It’s still thriving, and they are making changes. The progress is slow, but it’s happening and _ this _ is what it’s for. His arms tighten briefly around Galo’s waist and by the time they’re up on the ice and he’s trying to keep his feet underneath himself, Galo has him genuinely smiling. He doesn’t understand how it’s so easy. How _ he’s _ so easy.

“You dug five meters into a frozen lake just to see what was in there _ after _ a half hour-hike?” It’s not the most absurd shit Galo’s ever said by any means. If anything it’s perfectly Galo: he picked a good way to exhaust his anger. 

Some people turn into dragons and rampage over a city, some people dig in a frozen lake. He’s tried the whole dragon thing, maybe he ought to give digging in the lake a go. Another cautious step forward, doesn’t send him onto his ass. Promising. Then, belatedly as it occurs to him. “What did you _ use?” _

By the time they’re done for the day, Lio’s ready to be in bed under toasty covers. He leeches heat off of Galo the whole way home which is wonderful this late at night with the chill in the air. It has the added benefit of making him realize just how tight Galo’s shoulders and back are. Moving rubble all day, firefighting and then driving them up and down the mountain. It’s no wonder he’s tense. This, at least, is a problem he has the ability to solve _ quickly. _

He keeps Galo’s hoodie on even as he slides under the sheets onto his back. “Come here.” 

Galo takes orders beautifully if they’re about the right kind of thing and Lio wonders if Galo knows how absolutely _done_ _for_ he is when they finally get around to exploring it. Even for something simple like this, Galo grins and he crawls up onto the bed but instead of settling right away he lingers over Lio, just long enough for Lio to think _maybe, finally. _

“Tell me if I get too heavy,” Galo says instead. He sounds very serious and well-meaning and Lio fantasizes about shoving him out of bed and kissing him within an inch of his life. He opts for neither. 

Both arms fold over Galo’s back and he calls heat to his hands as easy as breathing. The first slow drag of his fingers down Galo’s bare back earns him a low, rumbling moan and a big hand squeezing over his hip. He can feel Galo’s smile pressed against his shoulder, warm and sweet as his hands work, tracing the curve of Galo’s spine as far as he can go before sweeping back up. Galo likes firm, round circles at the swells of his shoulders, and positively melts when Lio fits his hand to the nape of his neck, fingers digging in gently. 

Galo falls asleep in record time and Lio follows him shortly after, dreaming about Promepolis’ skyline.

🔼🔽🔼

Time passes remarkably fast and yet when it comes to Kray’s trial, it feels as if time has crawled to a slow. There are days without updates and it isn’t as if he can just ask; he might belong to Burning Rescue but there were compromises made about his level of access to information with his work there. If Ignis knows, (which Lio’s pretty sure he does) he turns a blind eye. Plausible deniability. 

Lio can’t understand how that works since anyone with half a brain would know Ignis knows a whole lot more than he ever lets on at any point. It’s frustrating to deal with but also, Lio desperately wants to figure out how to be that good. Galo thinks that Ignis knows about the Promare situation, and Lio is...relatively certain that it isn’t because Galo’s told him. At least 90% certain. It’s entirely possible Ignis just knows that too. 

Maybe it’s just the damn sunglasses. 

Most of his time feels like it’s spent wading in and out of red tape, jumping through hoops to make even the simplest things happen. It’s exhausting but Lio won’t let it be demoralizing. Dealing with these middle men for so many issues is a necessary evil, until abruptly, it’s not. 

He and Galo might have saved the world together, but Galo doesn’t really use his new-found fame how he could. Lio’s seen how some people act when presented with fame and recognition. He’s seen them turn nasty, snide, as if this is all so far below them now. The first time Galo throws his fame and weight around, it’s for _ him. _ He schedules a meeting with Interim-Governor Kalti like it’s nothing, waltzing into Ignis’ room to make the request. Ignis doesn’t object, either, when Lio’s heard him shoot down multiple half-cocked Galo plans.

A part of him, less charitable and more cranky than he wants to think about, is a little frustrated that it’s this easy for Galo to just...do. Lio could have yelled until he was blue in the face and only made two inches of progress whereas Galo simply runs into an office and _asks_. 

The rest of him is just...relieved. Galo’s saved him so much time, effort and frustration and if they can get important identification information expedited out how they need to, Lio can devote more of his time to locating housing throughout the city. Galo doesn’t realize just how much he’s helped, but it doesn’t matter. Galo’s doing it because he’s a good person who wants to help and this is an avenue for him to do it. It comes naturally to him; rather than the fame going to his head Galo’s all the more considerate. 

He’s ridiculous. 

They go over the notes Lio writes out and Galo is clearly doing his best but _ tired_. It makes sense, because Lio’s said the words _ in housing proposition number… _so many times that he never wants to say it again. It feels silly to hope in a situation like this, but Galo is so earnest and certain he can make this work that Lio believes him. 

Even if it doesn’t work, it means the world that Galo is even trying. That’s more than so many others have ever done. 

Later that night, Lio slides between the sheets rather than crawling over Galo to get onto what is, apparently, his side of the bed. He pushes Galo back enough that he can slide in and then fits himself neatly up against Galo’s front, yanking the blankets around both of them. Instead of the circle of a body pressed against him feeling claustrophobic, it feels comforting. Galo slides an arm around his waist and presses a face into his hair. This time, he gets to spend forever looking at Galo’s hands and arms, tugging one up to trace fingertips along the lines on his palms. The mindless affection is its own kind of comfort. Lio wraps his index finger and thumb around one of Galo’s wrists and they don’t quite touch. Middle finger to thumb fits, barely. Lio’s stomach goes hot and his face follows.

“You measuring me for gloves?” Galo asks into the mass of hair in his face, “Should get a pair like yours.” 

Oh. Hm. Lio lifts his hand up and considers it in the moonlight, thumb rubbing soft circles against the inside of Galo’s wrist. They would look good in gloves like his, he decides. The large fire fighting ones are adequate, sure, but something fitted would look even better on them. Lio traces the line of where they’d fall on Galo’s palm and allows himself just a moment of thinking about peeling them _ off _ Galo’s big hands with his teeth. 

“You’d never leave behind the fire fighting gloves,” Lio answers evenly, amused when Galo shakes with laughter behind him because he knows Lio’s _ right. _

“Gloves are supposed to provide protection and those only cover _half_ your hands if we’re bein’ _generous_,” Galo says, like he doesn’t watch Lio put them on in the morning and take them off at night, the same intent way he watches Lio put on and remove his boots. It’s added to the growing list of _things to discuss_ with no actual timeline on it. For the time being, he folds Galo’s hand around one of his and starts stroking his other up and down Galo’s arm. 

Telling Galo that the gloves aren’t meant to be protective because as long as Galo’s around, Lio knows that he can heal them probably isn’t the healthiest response. Or the right one, really, so Lio doesn’t say it. He fits his hand over Galo’s instead, carding his fingers neatly between Galo’s own and once Galo’s fallen asleep, he flings little flame motes around the room until he can’t keep his eyes open any longer. 

🔼🔽🔼

There is a scar on Galo’s arm, starting at one point like someone’s hand unevenly dragged down it. It’s too pink and raw to be very old, but Galo never mentions it. He doesn’t seem to mind Lio’s fingers running over it in turn but when they’re out in public Galo wears the sleeve. It’s non-obtrusive and initially, Lio had assumed it was for his elbow, or shoulder, some sort of response to an injury. 

It is, just in a different way than he expects. 

“The sleeve Galo wears,” Lio starts at one point when he and Lucia are in the back of the truck. Her fingers fly across the buttons while Lio scans the blueprints of the house to find out exactly what it’s made up out of to determine how much time they have until the ceilings start to give, where to shoot the absolute zero bullet to stop the core of the fire. 

“What about it?” Lucia’s tone is less friendly than he expects, but he’s distracted from his inquiry as he finally finds the information and leans over to press the comm button to Galo’s mech. 

“You’ll want to aim the absolute zero bullet here, transferring coordinates. Good luck.” 

“I don’t need luck, I’ve got you,” Galo whoops across the channel, and Lio sinks back into his chair with a smile. 

“You haven’t asked him yourself, have you,” Lucia says out of nowhere and yeah, he’s absolutely not imagining it. She’s a little less friendly, which is weird since they’ve worked together for months now. The sleeve is a sore spot, then. Maybe Lucia had something to do with it? “Weird, _ I _ thought the big bad Mad Burnish leader was really brave.” 

“I didn’t mean any offense, I apologize,” Lio offers, honestly meaning it. “I should have asked him instead. I’ll do that.” 

Lucia doesn’t seem particularly placated, but she nods and hums under her breath and still gives him a fist-bump when they’re all finished so it can’t be all bad.

On his way out of the truck, Aina catches him and frog-marches him out into the sunlight, past where Meis is giving himself a pat down for his lighter. He catches sight of Aina and takes two more steps away from the wall, even if he’s more than twenty feet from any doors.

“Lucia said you were asking about Galo’s sleeve,” she says out of nowhere. Lio’s a little blindsided but recovers quickly. 

“I apologized to her, earlier. I didn’t mean to touch a sensitive subject. I can ask him.” He’s an adult, he deals with delicate situations that require finesse all day long. Galo doesn’t require any finesse; he could have just asked him straight out instead of going to one of the others. 

“No, it’s not that. Or, I mean, it is about that, it’s just… Galo’d tell you if you asked, but I wanted to ask you not to.” Aina scuffs her shoe awkwardly against the ground, frowning. “It wasn’t intentional. He’d just rescued someone and their Burnish abilities weren’t under control yet. She burned him on accident. You know Galo, though. He didn’t hold it against her. Some reporters found out about it and tried to get him to talk about it; he got so mad that they kept trying to turn this into some kind of anti-Burnish sentiment that he started wearing the sleeve.” 

Of course he did. Lio isn’t surprised in the slightest. 

This doesn’t seem like something that would be a sore subject, though, necessarily. Galo’s a good person through and through; that he’d offer kindness to someone who injured him, intentional or not, isn’t a surprise. 

“When I saw him in the cave...after,” Aina hedges, slowly, “He mentioned that almost all of you had escaped. He didn’t say what direction, or how, or anything like that, probably to keep both of us safe. But he did mention that you had lost one of your friends. The same woman we tried to rescue a few months back, the one who burned his arm. That’s why… that’s why I wanted to ask you not to bring it up. Galo handles stuff pretty well, you know? He’s always got a smile on, but I know he probably hasn’t let himself think about that much yet. ” 

Aina’s throat works in a harsh swallow and Lio abruptly realizes why the subject is a sensitive one. Bringing it up would bring all of that back to the surface and Lio’s familiar enough with the heavy weight of failure that he wouldn’t see it draped on Galo’s shoulders if he can help it. “Aina. Thank you for telling me. I won’t bring it up around him. Galo’s...very lucky to have all of you behind him.” 

She looks so relieved that Lio feels a little guilty, like he’s not worthy of that gratitude when she’s literally just asking him not to be an asshole. “_ Thank _ you. I figured you’d be reasonable.” 

Is ‘thank you’ the right response to that? Lio opts for a nod instead, wondering if that’s everything she wanted to talk about. The others know there’s...something with the two of them. He’s not sure how much they’ve put together mostly because he’s not really sure what he’d call this, yet. It’s _ something_, it just isn’t easily categorized yet. Maybe once it is, that’s when he’ll start getting the well-meaning shovel talks he keeps expecting.

A moment later, Aina hooks their arms together and takes them back toward the garage. “Galo’s a pretty happy guy despite everything. I know you know that. Just...try to make sure he stays that way, okay?” 

This is a shovel talk, then, but a gentler one than he anticipates, than maybe he deserves.

“The last thing I want to do is hurt him,” Lio promises, because he won’t promise that he won’t ever do it. Mistakes will get made, feelings will get hurt. He can promise to handle it as best as he can, though. 

Aina drags him back into the building and he’s swallowed up by all the sound and noise of these loud, insane people who love each other so fiercely.

Galo finds him a little while later when they’re wrapping up for the day and tosses his arm around Lio’s shoulder, fingers resting against Lio’s collarbone. Across the room, Aina gives him a look. Apparently he’s made it to the level of friendship where he’s actively given shit by everyone. That’s...oddly very comforting. 

“You want to come get dinner with us tonight?” Galo asks, earnest. “We’re thinking the buffet down on 30th. They make _ the best _ curries.” 

“That sounds great,” Lio says, and means it. 

There’s still a list of dead Burnish that’s pages long on his desk. Thyma’s name is among those dead, along with so many others and that failure rests on him and Kray, not on anyone else. Seeing the full scope of it, of what Kray had wrought, Lio realizes that it so easily could have been Galo’s name on there, too. That would have been unacceptable. Between the two of them, Galo is the one who is going to do more good in the world which means it’s Lio’s job to make sure that it happens, that Galo is kept safe. 

_ It’s not your job to protect me, or Meis, or Gueira, _he’d told Galo at one point, unsurprised when Galo had waved it off. It wasn’t, and it’s not his job to protect Galo, either, but the world needs as much light as it can get and the Burnish, past and present, deserve someone so determined and kind to look out for them. 

The arm wrapped in the protective sleeve drapes over Lio’s shoulders affectionately, easily, and Lio reaches a hand up to curl his fingers loose around Galo’s wrist as they head out and onto the street.

🔼🔽🔼

All of Kray’s cards are on the table and Lio foolishly, angrily wants to lay theirs out too. He steps forward, repeating to himself that Burnish don’t kill, but _ oh _ is Kray _ tempting _ him. 

“Are you _ certain _ you were as successful as you hoped at eliminating all of the Promare?” Kray asks in that easy-going, disgustingly political tone of his. It _ grates_, makes Lio want to reach out and start the fight all over again. The one responsible for all of those names on his desk is right _ here _ within reach, in a perfectly pressed suit with manicured fingers. The unfairness of it makes Lio burn. 

For a moment, he’s so furious he can’t think, can’t _ speak_, his body moving on its own. He doesn’t know what he’s planning on doing but he’ll figure it out when he gets within reach of Kray. 

The Burnish aren’t killers, but he’s _ not _ Burnish right now, is he? 

Behind him, there’s a startled intake of breath and footsteps; Galo’s bare hand curls around his arm and the flush of power that bleeds through him is so sharp and strong that Lio _ knows _if he tried to burn Kray, he could. Just like the paperwork on his desk, he could reduce Kray to nothing but a pathetic pile of ashes, he could wipe him off the face of the planet. In his hand, the sword hangs heavily and behind him, Galo’s tugging at his arm. “Lio, don’t.”

Ah. He wasn’t trying to help him by sharing his flames: he was reaching out to stop Lio from doing something potentially foolish. Feeling faintly betrayed isn’t going to get him anywhere, especially when he hears the beep of someone pressing their ID to the lock. Lio dismisses the weapon with a flick of his wrists, just in time for Ignis’ frame to fill the doorway. 

He’s as impassive as ever behind those sunglasses, but there’s no way he doesn’t suspect at the scent of smoke. Lio brushes past him a little more rudely than he actually intends and hears Galo’s loud footsteps as he rushes out after him, the door hissing closed behind them. 

It’s as if the rest of the day is designed to test his patience, to wear him down. The night makes up for it, in a way, if only because Galo somehow always knows what to say, what to do to make him feel better. He’s earnest and means it with every ounce of his too-big heart when he tells Lio _you're __worthy,_ looking at him with his ridiculous, open expression. It’s too much, it’s _ overwhelming_. Summoning his flames, interfacing with the white-hot will of the Promare, _ none _ of it is as bright and overwhelming as Galo fucking Thymos looking at him, earnestly telling him that he’s _ worthy. _

Running away from a fight isn’t in Lio’s blood, but this isn’t a fight. This is looking straight into the sun and he’s too exhausted, worn too thin to do it right now, to give it the proper appreciation that Galo deserves. Blessedly, Galo doesn’t try to push for it when Lio presses (not hides) his face into the warmth of his chest. 

Maybe later Lio will have words for how much it means that Galo’s said that, how much it means to have that endless faith and support backing him but right now he doesn’t trust himself to handle it well so he winds both arms around the absurd spread of Galo’s chest and hugs him close until morning. 

  


🔼🔽🔼

Galo’s kissed him once, already. 

Maybe not a proper kiss, given that it was to save his life and not because they _ wanted to_, but not counting it would be foolish. If they’ve already kissed once then there shouldn’t be any issue doing it again, but for some reason, they haven’t. 

For some reason, Galo hasn’t. That’s not fair, of course, since Lio is _just as capable_ of doing it, but there’s a reason why _he_ hasn’t. It’s the answer to a question he’s still not brave enough to voice. It needs to mean something, needs to be because they want to not because Lio wants to be able to burn again more than almost anything else. If he does it, he’s not sure he’ll do it for the right reasons. 

If Galo initiates it, then Lio can follow up and maybe it will be enough to burn out the guilt he knows is going to well up like lava from his core. They share a bed every single night, they share breakfast, they share the motorcycle, and it’s to a point where a few times a day, Galo is warm and close and looking at him like he’s considering it. Lio thinks _maybe, finally_. He’s never been so frustrated in his entire fucking _life_. 

It’s some miserable hour before a meeting, but he’s still in bed mostly because he doesn’t _ need _to get up, and maybe a little because Galo’s running one of his big hands through Lio’s bedhead. Galo had, at some point in the night, reached over across the bed to where Lio was like he was reassuring himself Lio was still there and never moved. When Galo’s alarm had gone off, his hand twitched faintly but didn’t otherwise move. Lio had to crawl across him to turn it off, and then crawled back under the pile of blankets he’d hoarded throughout the night. 

Once he’s settled, Galo’s hand reaches out again, patting up the blanket until he reaches the top of Lio’s head and affectionately scrubs his fingers through again. It’s stupidly sweet, Lio presses his face into the blankets a little further until he’s relatively certain he’s not bright red. The weight on the bed shifts, Galo stretching, forearms bracing against it as he pushes against it. The headboard squeaks at the pressure and Lio wonders who is going to break and replace it first: Lio, or Galo after he finally breaks it.

When he lifts his head from the blankets, Galo finishes stretching and rolls over to him, tugging at the comforter with a truly remarkable puppy-dog expression. His eyes go from Lio’s bedhead down to his lips and _linger_ and Lio thinks_ maybe_, finally, only for Galo to give the blankets a good yank and shamelessly sidle up to him, laughing. 

“I gotta get bigger blankets. I might be the world’s number one firefighter, but you’re the world’s number one blanket hog,” he teases, and slides an arm around Lio’s waist. Hot fingers press against the small of Lio’s back where his shirt has ridden up; his spine stiffens in response and he knows Galo feels it. Instead of flustering at the accidental extra contact like Lio was expecting, Galo’s smile edges from sleepy morning enthusiasm to something warmer, smugger. His fingers stroke lightly against the skin there and Lio’s stomach goes hot and tight, eyes wide as Galo just _ looks _ at him. Maybe, finally, but _ no. _

Galo’s phone goes off again and Lio could honestly burn it to a crisp without any fucking remorse. They need to get going, though; there isn’t enough time to kiss _ and _ discuss it, he reasons, kicking the blankets off of himself.

“You’ve got morning breath,” he says, and puts his whole hand in Galo’s face on his way out of bed, softening it into an affectionate stroke of his fingers through his hair on his way to grab clothes from the closet. 

From the bed, Galo throws a pillow at him and Lio catches it, slinging it back without any remorse. “_You’ve _ got morning breath!” Galo retorts intelligently through a yawn that makes his jaw crack loud enough even Lio hears it. 

Opening the dresser, Lio thumbs through socks until he finds the thickest ones still clean and tugs them out, glancing over at Galo. It’s the best kind of mistake, because Galo’s laid out on the bed half tangled in mussed sheets, cheek on his bicep just _watching_. The open curtain paints him in pre-dawn light and Lio wants so badly it feels like he’ll burn up if one of them doesn’t _do_ something soon. 

“What?” he asks, tugging a hand through the bird’s nest he’s sure his hair is right now, cutting his gaze to the side because he can’t look at Galo’s face any longer and still stay away from the bed. Ugh. He can’t even blame this weakness on the lack of being Burnish, either. 

“I just like looking at you,” Galo tells him bluntly, honestly, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Then, “Also I kinda thought your shirt was on backwards for a second but it’s just like that I guess.” 

He regrets slinging the pillow at Galo earlier when now would have been such a better time. The shirt is one of Meis’ old ones he’d retired after one of the holes had torn past the point of ‘artful.’ Lio could have just tossed it out but it was one of the few belongings he still had to bring back after the settlement was destroyed. Meis had cut the collar out of it ages ago and Lio doesn’t actually know which the front or back is.

“I suppose so. You can look at me on the way in, I’m driving,” Lio says before he can talk himself out of it and ducks out of the bedroom to wash his face, change, and make coffee before Galo can say anything else. Varys is supposed to make breakfast this morning, which is part of why they’re getting up at such a miserable hour. Galo’s assured him that he’s one of the best at making breakfast for the team, which isn’t exactly the best measurement of skill because so far, everyone, every Wednesday has been “one of the best.” 

Galo _ does _ watch him on the way in, starting the moment Lio pulls on his first glove. Lio instantly realizes that saying it was like issuing a challenge because Galo is _ like that_. Galo watches him pull on his gloves and boots with a level of interest and intent that makes Lio feel like he’s basically only punishing himself at this point. Lio pulls his second glove on and moves to his boots, amused when Galo’s hands fumble three different times on his own shoelaces. 

At least it goes both ways. 

Lio buckles the last securely and then straightens, watching Galo’s eyes trace the motion. Instead of flustered, he feels _smug_, jingling keys on his way out to the motorcycle. “I’ll leave without you.” 

He won’t, but Galo shouts in response and comes out a few moments later, hopping on one foot as he hurriedly ties his shoes. 

The moment Galo slides onto the back Lio summons the armor over both of them; it’s not the full set, just enough to protect them while they’re riding. Helmets, a layer of protection over their legs just in case. Nothing so obvious as full Mad Burnish armor, but sometimes Lio _ thinks _about it, thinks about how Galo would look in it. 

If he takes turns a little fast and pushes the bike a little faster than normal, Galo doesn’t say anything, leaning into each curve like Lio and the bike are just an extension of his own body. When Lio slides the helmet off, hair falling messily all over his face, he blows his bangs out of his eyes and finds Galo is _ still _ looking at him. Lio tips his head up in challenge, helmet clutched tight in his hand.

Maybe, finally, but no, Galo’s arm slings around his shoulders and he says they ought to hurry. They don’t need to, not really, but Lio takes it for the ending that it is and heads inside, annoyed with himself for being frustrated. 

That’s the day he finds out about _The Bet_. 

Meis hands him a cup of hot coffee and Lio wraps both hands around it, scanning the table of paperwork spread out on it. Galo’s with Aina and Lucia trying to steal bacon off the pan as Varys cooks it, which means they’re entirely distracted. 

“You know Burning Rescue has a bet about you two, boss?” Gueira says under his breath, flipping through paperwork he’s absolutely not reading. 

No, he didn’t, but he’s also not exactly shocked. There have been bets about how many pairs of glasses Ignis actually owns (they only found the one), the status of Galo’s plant (more leaves on it than have fallen off: an improvement) whether or not Galo or Varys could eat three pizzas faster (Galo insists he’d won but he’d also choked, so), and a slew of other positively absurd things. A bet about the two of them isn’t a surprise. 

“Do I want to know what the win/lose conditions are?” Lio asks after a cautious sip of his coffee. He wants to know no matter what, mostly because that will determine how he fixes the bet and determines who will win. He can guess at what it involves, but confirmation is always better. When neither of them say anything, he rolls his eyes. “I do, for the record.” 

“The bet’s on who’s gonna say something about you guys being together first,” Meis says like he hasn’t bought into it. Lio _knows _he has because he’s lost thirty dollars so far on the last bets. “Aina says he’s just gonna walk in with a hickey without realizing, and she’s going to beat everyone.” 

“What did you bet on?” Lio asks both of them mildly, over the rim of the glass. 

“Nothing!” 

“I bet he doesn't make it two minutes before he spills,” Gueira sends Meis a shiteating grin and betrays him in a heartbeat. “Meis bet you were gonna tell us first.” 

“Shut up, asshole,” Meis elbows him and the resulting scuffle pulls the attention of the others. Lio slips away and on his way past, Varys puts a piece of bacon onto a paper towel for him, because he’s the only one with any manners.

Truthfully, he forgets about the bet over the rest of the day. It’s one thing after another until they’re home and even then, Lio doesn’t trust their phones not to go off with another emergency. They still have pizza leftovers, and he has just enough energy to cook it, eat it, and then maybe brave taking clothes out of the dryer. The last is debatable, because his fingers fumble the buckles on the first attempt, his hair falling into his eyes obnoxiously. The day is just determined to keep testing him. 

There’s one thunk and then another as Galo flings his boots to the ground, gloves following. They’re supposed to be figuring out how to connect with the Promare, and Lio isn’t sure if that’s going to end up meaning _ find out literally any way but the way he’s pretty sure will work _ or not. He’ll figure it out one way or another but _ first _ he needs to take his damn boots off. Just as his fingers fit to the buckle to start pushing the tongue free, Galo kneels in front of him and big hands wrap around his boots, tugging it over to rest on his thigh. 

It's not often he's shocked to silence, but Galo somehow makes it happen effortlessly. His hands freeze in place and Galo’s take over, thumbing the tongue out from under the metal, working the still-not-broken-in leather-free before working on the next one. He’s watched Lio do it so many times it’s not surprising to see him take over it easily, but Lio’s not sure Galo knows what it’s doing to him.

Galo’s just doing it to help, because he’s impatient and wants to get to work and Lio can already see where this is going. Galo will come to the same conclusion he will, eventually: if minimal skin to skin contact activates it, then more skin contact will clearly do what they want it to. He’s been silent and still for too long, because Galo’s tone is a little more careful, now, always considerate. “Did you want to keep them on?” 

“No,” Lio has to dig deep for the ability to speak and not to just lean down, drag Galo up and kiss him within an inch of his life. His alternate solution isn’t exactly _ more noble_, because Galo keeps working at them, a little slower like he’s still giving Lio a chance to back out of this. Lio’s heel digs in and down into the meat of Galo’s thigh before he can talk himself out of it. Galo’s eyes go dark in response, feels his fingers twitch over his leg. Maybe, finally, _ now. _Lio sinks back against the wall and raises his eyebrows. The toe of his boot shifts and Galo’s stomach sucks in. “You’re almost done.” 

Galo acquiesces to it beautifully, like it’s the easiest thing in the world to do this for Lio, sliding his thumb across his ankle just slow enough that it’s clear how intentional it is, the flicker of power making his whole leg feel as if it’s buzzing. When Galo goes to rise up, clearly thinking that Lio intends to return something _ entirely _ different than a kiss, Lio plants his foot against the center of Galo’s chest and pushes. 

He’s felt powerful before, of course, but never like this. This is a different sort of power than sitting on a throne, putting on a show to sell something. Galo goes down gracelessly, and Lio follows him, settling shamelessly over where he’s hard in the loose pants of his uniform. 

“I’m gonna kiss you again,” Galo warns him a few moments later and Lio leans in to beat him to it.

🔼🔽🔼

Lio has watched Galo sleep so many times that this could almost be another one of them if it weren’t for all of the machines he’s hooked up to. 

Galo’s chest rises and falls, he sprawls out on (and over) a ridiculous amount of the bed so often that they’ve probably all moved a limb back on at least once during their watch. Weirdly, that’s the most comforting part of all of this. If he’s moving this much in his sleep then he’s going to wake up. Lio won’t allow him to do any less. 

The others had insisted on a hospital, at least for a day or two but as far as Lio can tell, he’s not necessarily injured any longer. There’s nothing a hospital can _do_, because the burns have already scarred and healed, they just need him to wake _up _and Lio is finding he’s terrible at waiting. 

Worse: Galo wakes the first time and Lio isn’t there. 

Lio hears about it through Aina, because by the time he’s back (just from getting _coffees_) Galo’s already asleep again. He’d apparently woken up long enough to look at Aina and Ignis, squint, ask them to turn the lights out, and then passed back out again. It’s barely any interaction, but Lio’s furious with himself that he missed it. He stays for the next six hours, stubborn, and it’s clear that Galo’s waking up bit by bit. When Lio presses his fingers to Galo’s chest, he can feel the flames inside Galo starting to unfurl, like a slow-growing bonfire. The relief is so strong it’s nearly staggering. 

The next time Galo wakes and is _ actually _semi-coherent he hits himself in the face and melts the machine he’s hooked up to without even realizing it. Lio leans over him to try and leech some of that unrestrained power out of him, licks sparks from his teeth as it bleeds over. Under him, Galo inhales sharply like he’s shocked and then grins, dopily. Lio’s heart clenches. “Wanna kiss you,” Galo tells him in a sleepy slur. “Want it more than a fire station dog.” 

Behind him, someone snorts with laughter, not even bothering to hide it. Lio urges Galo back into the bed before he tries to do something foolish like climb out, desperately not thinking about how easy it is to fight him back into the hospital cot. Galo also looks mildly offended at how easy it was, but when he flops back into the pillows, he’s out like a light in just a few breaths.

By the time they let him take Galo home, he’s melted a hole in the linoleum and the doctor, already looking harried from having to deal with so many of them, signs off on Lio taking him home, probably partially to just get rid of them. They don’t have any doctors on staff who have Burnish abilities, he says, and Lio isn’t sure how true that is as opposed to they _ do, _ but don’t know, yet. Either way, it results in him being able to tuck Galo into his own bed, promising the team that he’ll make sure he tells them when Galo wakes. 

Close proximity means he’s able to siphon off the bits and pieces of fire that bleed out over the unconscious control Galo’s mostly kept over his abilities, but also means that when Galo does finally wake up, Lio is right there where he wants to be, beside him. 

🔺one year later 🔺

Lio’s alarm goes off at exactly 5:45 AM every morning save for Saturday (where it’s set for 7AM), the one day he and Galo both share off as frequently as possible. Despite the fact that _is_ Saturday and he’s getting a whole hour and fifteen minutes more sleep than any other day of the week, Lio still has to fight back the urge to burn his phone to a crisp as he’s reaching over the lump of muscle still asleep.

Tempting as it is to torch it, he thumbs over the alarm button instead and flops heavily back into the sheets. Next to him, the lump groans and blankets shift. Lio is dragged underneath the nest of blankets so quickly he doesn’t have time to adjust, pulled in against Galo’s front. One of his sock-clad feet remains poking out from underneath the blankets until he pulls it in and lets Galo wrap him up in his arms and fully into the makeshift blanket nest he’s created. 

“You’ve probably got two minutes before the dog jumps up here,” Lio warns, looping an arm around Galo’s waist. Probably less than that, really, the dog has this sixth sense about when they’re awake and that combined with the alarm and their talking means they’re probably going to hear her come tearing in there at any moment. At least Galo’s broad enough that the dog will mostly jump on him. 

“Nnhrrghhh,” Galo groans instead of any sort of verbal answer, leaning in for either a kiss or to hide his face under Lio’s chin; it’s not really clear because just as soon as he gets close the bed creaks ominously with the weight of fifty pounds of excited dog. A paw lands right on Lio’s shoulder and the dog slips, seeming to decide that laying in the dip of blankets between them is good enough for the time being. There’s the steady thwap, thwap of her tail smacking against their legs. Galo hasn’t moved. 

“I’m taking her out, aren’t I,” Lio asks and _that’s_ when Galo gives up on pretending he’s still asleep, opening his eyes and beaming. Lio gets a kiss for his trouble, which is pretty decent payment when he was already going to get up to make coffee before Galo even _thought_ about moving. 

“Wow, _ thank you_, you’re the best,” Galo says cheerfully as Lio extricates himself from the covers without dislodging the dog. The floor is cold this early in the morning even with the Promare mostly lingering in him, so he steals Galo’s slippers from beside the bed and goes to start the coffee. Once it’s brewing, he turns, snapping his fingers just once. The dog rockets off of the bed to the door, prancing as he tries to fix her leash to her collar, and then drags him out of the apartment, around the corner. It takes forever to walk the block because she has to stop and sniff everything but the chill in the mornings wakes him up better than anything else. 

By the time they’re finished and he’s fed her, the coffee’s finished brewing. Lio pours two mugs and makes his way back into the bedroom.

Galo’s still in bed, sprawled out on the bed over the covers rather than under them. There are creases on his chest and cheek where the sheets pressed against his skin; Lio runs his thumb over one of them after passing off a cup of coffee, climbing up onto the bed. 

He doesn’t get cold any longer, not the way he did when his Promare was focused in Galo, still trying to build itself back up again. Under the blankets is still preferable to over them, though. Scooting down, he fits his legs under the rumpled covers and slots himself against Galo’s side, flames holding his coffee safely so he can settle himself in and adjust the covers. 

“You gotta work today?” Galo yawns, apparently giving up on maintaining his ownership of the majority of the bed to roll over and drape himself over Lio’s lap between his spread thighs. Lio’s hand winds itself into the unruly tangle of blue and Galo groans, shamelessly scooting closer until he’s nestled more comfortably there, head pillowed on his belly. “Wasn’t sure f’you got the speech done or not.” 

Right, the speech. Lio’s stomach does a pre-emptive anxious flip despite himself and the hand in Galo’s hair pauses until Galo noses against his belly gently to remind him to keep going. “It’s...done, I just need to work on delivery. I’m sure I’ll change things as I practice it.” 

It’s already changed countless times as Lio’s written and rewritten it, probably over-thinking things more than is necessary but unable to _stop_ overthinking it. A public official’s ability to command attention and respect deals heavily with their ability to speak in public and while Lio has rallied the Burnish and led the Mad Burnish for over a year, it’s not the same. He’s not giving speeches to desperate, exhausted masses, or commanding the Mad Burnish in operations to commandeer information or tools. He’s giving it to politicians, to people with money and influence that he will have to rub shoulders with despite his distaste for it, because that’s what’s necessary. 

“You can practice on me,” Galo’s head lifts, groping for his coffee on the nightstand. He lifts himself just enough to take a long drink and then flops his weight back down against Lio with an _ oof_, pressing coffee-warm kisses against where Lio’s shirt has ridden up. “I’ll pretend to be a snooty politician and you can explain your incredible, brilliant plan to me.” 

Galo’s so unbearably sweet Lio can’t stand it. His fingers stroke gently down the line of where Galo’s hair becomes undercut, blunted nails scraping lightly over his scalp just for the way Galo shivers, winding both arms around him under the pillows he’s propped against. “You mean I’ll start and you’ll fall asleep a few paragraphs in.”

“A sleepy snooty politician,” Galo agrees. His hand fits itself to the small of Lio’s back, fingers rubbing lazy circles against the bare skin there. “I don’t mind, though, and you can wake me up if I do.” 

Of course. Because Galo means it when he says he wants to help, and fully intends to do whatever Lio needs of him even on the day that they’re both supposed to be off, relaxing. Lio’s finger trails along the shell of an ear, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind it. Galo shivers. “You’d have to get up so I can get the tablet from the living room.” 

“Tch, do not,” Galo catches Lio’s shirt in his teeth and pulls up enough to bare a few inches to kiss, looking up at him through a fringe of blue. “Heard you practicing. I know you’ve got most of it memorized.” 

“I do.” Another slow drink of his coffee as he pets through Galo’s hair and considers. “No, I think a break or a distraction would probably help more at this point.” 

He’s better about allowing himself moments of selfishness here and there. It manifests in different ways: setting the alarm for earlier in the morning at Galo’s request, specifically so they can spend a few moments lounging together in bed before they have to get going, or not melting the door when Gueira and Meis lock him out of Burning Rescue and tell him to go _home_ and take _both_ puppy dogs with him. 

Galo understands the importance of the speech, and how hard Lio’s been working all these months on the countless stacks of paperwork, through thankless, mind-numbingly boring or infuriating meetings. He’s never been pushy about how more often than not their days off are still days on in some capacity. Offering to sit through the speech is sweet, but that’s not how he wants to spend the moments they _do_ get together before things get busy again. 

Together, with Galo more hindering than helping, they manage to arrange themselves a little more comfortably. Lio piles pillows against the headboard and hears an ominous squeak, Galo fits both of his stupidly large hands against the inside of Lio’s thighs and pushes, tossing his legs over the broad stretch of his shoulders. 

“I’m the best at distractions,” Galo agrees, already sliding a hand under Lio’s pajamas to start stroking his cock, slow and teasing. Lio squirms against the sheets, already regretting allowing him to be on top if this is the pace he’s going to set. “Just watch, the great Galo Fotia-Thy—”

“You’re being distractingly slow,” Lio says and winds a hand in Galo’s hair, twisting and pulling close to his scalp just for the way Galo’s eyes flutter shut and he goes molten and agreeable. 

“Ow, ow ow _ ow_.” The breathy, low little noise that leaves Galo’s mouth is absolutely not because he’s _ hurt_. “Jeez, impatient much?”

“Very.” Lio hooks a leg around Galo’s back just to keep him pinned there and admires the way Galo strains to get his mouth on Lio’s cock. 

Galo tugs against the hand in his hair again like he’s suddenly the one who can’t stand waiting and then changes tack, “Did that work for you, ‘cause I was _ really _ into that. Fotia-Thymos.” 

“You’ve said that about every variation of our names so far, you know,” Lio gentles the hand in his hair and lets Galo dive back down. His hands grab at Lio’s pajama pants and yank until he’s bare to his thighs. Every variation that Galo has tried so far _ also _ does it for Lio, which isn’t remotely helpful. “We don’t have to change them.” 

There’s a whole mess of issues, logistical and other, to consider when it comes to changing their names, and while it hasn’t really progressed past..._talk_ Lio can’t help but think about it, instead of running over the same lines about _housing_. It’s _then_ he realizes that Galo has, effectively, distracted him from the speech entirely, just as neatly as he’d pinned him to the bed. He hadn’t even realized. 

“Galo Thymos-Fotia,” Lio says, testing it, and yeah, that does it for him, too. They ought to think of some kind of proper ranking for this if they’re trying this out, because otherwise it’s going to drag out forever as they try to decide. 

“See, I like that, too!” Galo squeezes his thigh and then releases it, mostly so he can curl one of his absurdly large hands around Lio’s dick, humming. “I’m not sure if it was the name, or the fact that you sounded kind of vaguely disapproving that’s doing it for me, though. How come it’s Thymos-Fotia when I’m in trouble, huh?” 

He’s the most absurd man Lio has ever fucking met and Lio is desperately, hopelessly gone for him. Relaxing back, Lio arches his hips just a touch as he sinks into the mess of blankets and pillows, spreading his thighs further apart rather than opting to hold Galo to the bed. 

“Are you planning on proposing at some point, or would you like me to handle that?” Galo’s hand tightens just a touch, but it’s still loose, light pressure, the maddeningly slow rub of a thumb over his cock. Lio props his chin up on his palm, elbow settling itself over Galo’s arm wrapped around him, the very image of nonchalance like they’re not discussing _ getting married _ while Galo’s got a hand around his cock. “You’ve seen my schedule. It’s very busy.” 

It is, in fact, very busy. If it’s not meetings, it’s working shifts at Burning Rescue. If it’s not shifts there, then it’s shifts at the resettlement operations. There is always something more to be doing and he and Galo tend to do as much as two people can within the confines of a normal twenty-four hours. Rather than answer, Galo fits both of his hands to Lio’s hips to hold him down as he puts his mouth to a different use, sliding down with a noise Lio’s not even sure he’s aware he makes. 

“There isn’t time for a wedding, anyway. Realistically, there wouldn’t be time for the next three years.” Galo’s head bobs in a nod, holding eye contact the whole time until he meets where his hand has flattened against Lio’s belly. Lio holds his breath and pretends like he isn’t going to crumble to pieces after just a few moments of this. Desperately, he tries to hold onto the thread of conversation, because this is just another challenge to throw himself against. Below him, Galo releases his hip to go for the drawer and Lio allows him a moment or two of fumbling before sending a flare there to pluck up the lube and deposit it into the questing hand. 

“Thanks!” Galo manages once he’s slid off for a ragged breath, lips slick with spit and precome. While he catches his breath Lio tosses legs back over Galo’s shoulders and squeezes gently just for the way that Galo’s eyes go wide at the promise and threat of thighs on either side of his head. He’s always so _ easy. _

“There would be so much planning involved with it. So many requirements. It should be a spectacle, an example. It’s as… ah, _ ah, Galo… _as political of a move as any we’ve made during the reintegration project, ” Lio sighs, back arching as Galo works him open on his fingers, angling his wrist on the next push just to wring another noise like that out of Lio. Instead of giving it to him just yet, Lio turns Galo’s head up by the grip in his hair. “Unless you wanted to elope.” 

Galo draws off in a rush, sputtering a laugh and a cough, mashing his face into Lio’s thigh while he catches his breath. Rather than answering, he sucks a bruise against the inside of Lio’s thigh and fucks two fingers into him slow and steady. Only when he’s apparently satisfied does he rest his cheek against it and answer Lio’s half-serious suggestion. “No, I wanna do a wedding. Can you imagine everyone’s faces if we ran off and got married in secret? Oh, _ there_, huh?”

Lio’s breath hitches in his throat and he digs both of his heels into Galo’s back, thighs trembling. “They would be obnoxious,” he agrees as steadily as he can manage, swallowing. “A wedding takes more than half the day any...anyway, mmmn, _ there, Galo… _when was the last time we had an uninterrupted half-day let alone a full one?” 

They could probably make time, but he has a feeling that neither of them would be any good at taking time off from everything they’re doing to plan something as monstrous as this would end up being. There’s the political side that they have to consider: Lio might sit on Promepolis’ council as a former Mad Burnish member but that doesn’t mean that everyone is happy about it. The same people who might idolize Galo for his heroism might hate Lio for his past involvement with the Mad Burnish and current involvement with the government. 

Galo doesn’t need to worry about his actions reflecting badly on Kray, not when Lio’s far more worried about his blunt, honest actions reflecting on himself. Galo won’t _ think _ of those things, or won’t think they matter as much as they do. Lio can’t protect him from the full extent of what being together will bring but he can from some of it. 

“Planning any sort of event of that scale takes months… finding a, _nnnh_, location, food, aligning it with everyone’s schedules… _Galo_.” Lio’s thighs go tight around Galo’s ears as he’s sucked back down again and Galo’s fingers fuck into him a little harder, ripping a ragged gasp out of him as he loses the battle to keep his voice even. Galo’s mouth rising back up off of him and his hand replacing it doesn’t offer any sort of reprieve, tight and slick around him. Orgasm gets tugged out of him in as easily as Galo tugs the flames from the fires he fights, spilling over the line of Galo’s knuckles as he keeps stroking until Lio’s squirming away from with the threat of oversensitivity. 

“Yeah, all of that sounds _ super _ exhausting,” Galo agrees kindly, reasonably, like he doesn’t _ still _ have two thick fingers pressed deep inside Lio, burning him from the inside out. He mouths a kiss against the tip of Lio’s dick, “But I didn’t ask you to marry me yet. So you don’t have to plan anything.” 

Oh. 

_ Oh. _

“We’re still working out how we’re gonna make the name work, remember, Lio Thymos?” Galo waggles his eyebrows at him, cheek resting on Lio’s thigh as he patiently waits for Lio to recover. “That one’s good, too. Lio Thymos.” 

He emphasizes every single syllable obnoxiously and Lio hopelessly thinks that yeah, they’re all just going to make his stomach jump like that. Shoving Galo back, he uses a few flares to move the blankets and knock Galo over onto his back on the bed, fighting post-orgasm lethargy to climb up after him. “Run me through the options again,” Lio orders, freeing Galo’s cock from the confines of his pajama pants, groping in the sheets for where the lube’s disappeared off to. 

Laughing, Galo reaches up to the headboard like he does every morning, forearms bracing and tensing as he stretches, pushing against it. It creaks ominously. “Alright! First up is Lio Thymos-Fotia!” 


	2. Extra scene!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS ALL [SOVEREIGNTY'S](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sovereignty/pseuds/sovereignty) FAULT AGAIN GOD DAMNIT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the names are all sovereignty's doing, IMAGINE BEING A PERSON GOOD AT NAMING PEOPLE IN FICS??? also [poppy as in the fire flowers](https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2019/apr/23/fire-poppies-flower-disaster-wildfires) and galo was buying parsnips because you can bake them in the oven and they turn sweet, and lio is less than enthused about veggies. 
> 
> anyway how about seeing that movie for a 5th time

“Wh— hey, what part of not putting everything in your mouth did you not understand, kiddo?” Galo scoops their son up and holds him like a sack of rice under one arm while their daughter eyes the discount snack section right next to the carts. It’s the same look Lio gets which is why he’s not taken shopping any more. “Okay, Poppers, are you driving?” 

Poppy gives him a particularly unimpressed look over her glasses and takes the cart from him as he hefts Sirius up into his arms. Sirius, not content with staying still, goes wiggly and it takes both hands to contain him. “Yeah, dad.” 

“Do you and Lio practice that tone, or...” Galo asks her, because damn, she even has the intonation Lio uses when Galo’s asking dumb questoins down. Sirius gets a loud smooch on his cheek and then winds up settled on Galo’s shoulders. Sticky hands shove into his hair; Galo removes one when it pulls too hard, blowing a raspberry on one chubby hand. “Lead the way!” 

Just like grocery shopping with Lio, Galo winds up putting things that aren’t on the list back onto the shelves. Lio doesn’t bother to hide when he does it. Poppy is sneakier about it because she hasn’t learned that she has Galo helplessly wrapped around her finger if she really pushes. It’s all over for him when she does. 

Passing through cereal, Galo’s careful not to get too close to any aisles to prevent wandering, taller than usual hands from dragging things off the shelves. He adds a hop to the next three steps and Sirius burbles happily above him. Poppy has her hand on a box of Gushers and another is in the cart faster than he expects. Just as quickly, like nothing happened, she’s perusing the healthy granola. 

“Smooth,” Galo says admiringly, and only puts one box back. “Don’t you and Lio have another box?” 

“It’s not that flavor. Dad ate all of them,” Poppy moans, properly dramatic given the seriousness of the accusations. “The whole box!” 

Oh, yeah. Galo remembers that. Whoops. That’d partially been him, too. The other box goes back in the cart as apology and he holds up two kinds of granola to the both of them. “One or two?” 

“Two,” both of them say, emphatically, which isn’t shocking since it’s the chocolate kind. Galo tosses the second option into the cart with the Gushers and plunks the other one back. On his shoulders, Sirius bounces, chanting two two two between chewing on his fingers, so Galo matches his step to it, bouncing between the giggles while Poppy takes them to the next aisle. 

“Coffee!” Galo calls as Poppy crouches to grab the brand they normally get, while he snags the bigger containers for the Burning Rescue break room. “Alright. You’ve got the list, I remember coffee and granola and some kinda protein. You guys waaaaant chicken or pork?” 

Sirius makes a noise that really could be either option here. 

“Chicken.” Poppy looks at the list for a moment and then shoves it up at him. “Miss Bowers says writing clearly is important.” she informs him, while Galo tries to figure out what the hell kind of thing he’d meant by “PSNSPS???” on the grocery list. 

Everyone had all kinds of advice for them when they’d first been taking care of her, back before they’d even thought about formally adopting her. As she got older, more and more people gave their advice, and Galo was grateful for it, sure, but at no point was he warned that eventually they get old enough to mercilessly drag their parents. 

He squints at his handwriting. Parsnips, maybe? 

“Miss Bowers is right,” Galo hooks a hand around Sirius’s leg and holds him steady while he does his best impression of a hat, arms limp on either side of Galo’s head. A thumb goes into his ear and Galo swallows the yelp, distracted a moment later by his phone buzzing loudly in his pocket. “Go grab two biiiig handful of parsnips for me, okay?” 

“Dad doesn’t like parsnips,” Poppy tells him, very patiently, and doesn’t move. Tugging his phone out while holding a squirming toddler on his head is really impressive, he feels, but Poppy doesn’t look too impressed and there’s no one else to appreciate it. Bummer.

“Babe,” Galo greets as he thumbs the phone on and uses the hand holding Sirius’s leg to sandwich the phone to his ear while he points to the produce aisle and then holds his hand up in a clear well?? gesture at Poppy. “Hey. I think the kids are revolting.” 

Well used to anything Galo could possibly open with, Lio hums. Galo wonders what sort of update it would take to get a reaction out of him. “Poppy is orchestrating?” 

“Poppybean is not grabbing me stuff for dinner tonight and I have pulled six different things outta Sirius’s mouth so he’s sitting on my shoulders. Right buddy! Every single thing on the way here. Whaaaat else. Poppy said she’s learning cursive and my handwriting sucks. It’s been a day.” Galo reaches out to poke the tip of her nose and grins when she ducks her head, hiding her smile. “What’s up?” 

“I had a spare minute and I wanted to talk to you,” Lio says, easily. A spare moment in his absurdly busy day, and he’s talking to Galo. Even after this long, Galo goes warm all the way through in an abrupt rush. “What else are you getting?” 

“Chicken, those chips you like for hummus, yogurt, and parsnips.” Galo pauses, because he already knows what’s coming.

“I don’t like parsnips,” Lio says, like he has any fucking idea what a parsnip looks like. Galo doesn’t. Poppy gives him a long staredown behind her glasses, rises up onto her tip toes to snag one of the vegetable bags, hopping to tear it. When she lands, the shoes light up and Galo is hit with such a wave of fondness in the produce section he almost considers letting them off the hook.

“She told me you don’t like them,” Galo says, dutifully, just as Poppy leans up and in so Lio can hear her. 

“I told him you don’t, dad!” Poppy calls, and Galo doesn’t bother to stifle his laughter, which gets Sirius going, legs kicking, dislodging the phone. Turning on her heel, she heads for the fruit, first, which is progress. “I’m getting something good!” 

“What are you even making with parsnips?” There’s the creak of a chair and a door snicking open and closed; Galo can picture him, stealing a moment in an empty room somewhere before he goes back into whatever meeting, fighting the kinds of battles they fought now. 

“I dunno, I couldn’t figure out what I was trying to write and I was tired of asparagus pee diapers.” 

Lio’s laugh sounds like it comes rumbling from his chest, low, private, just for Galo. Sirius yanks at his hair and burbles something cheerfully at the fruit Poppy holds up in question. Galo nods encouragingly. “You bought the asparagus. I told you we were out of ice cream.” 

“Okay, yeah, yes, you are right, it’s gonna be like another few months before we get to eat asparagus again. Don’t sound too bummed.” 

“I won’t.” Lio hums, unrepentant. Distantly, he can make out voices on Lio’s end. “You really should get more ice cream, though. Sorry, Galo, I have to go.”

He can totally figure out what he would use parsnips for, and he will, once he finds them. Galo picks up a bunch of them and double checks the label, dubious. They look like white carrots. “Love you too, get home safe. I’m gonna go negotiate veggies with a second-grader.”

“Good luck.” Lio says with all the certainty of someone who knows the second-grader is going to win. “Don’t forget ice cream.”

**Author's Note:**

> galo thymos please dm me 
> 
> update dec 8 - here's a mini chapter two


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